When an Almaty court handed blogger Temirlan Ensebek a five-year sentence of restricted freedom this spring, it wasn’t for a speech or a protest but for posting to an audience of 34,000 the song “Yo Russians” — a crude, anonymously written rap from the early 2000s that hurls vulgar insults at Russians, and briefly, Uzbeks. Revived online after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and recast by some as an anti-war anthem, the track has become a lightning rod in Kazakhstan, where Russians make up roughly half the population in the northern regions. Ensebek was prosecuted under Act 174, the law against inciting ethnic hatred — a case that illustrates how easily cultural flashpoints can spill into politics in a country trying to preserve its multiethnic harmony while fending off Moscow’s claims to its territory.
For Kazakhstan, the most diverse country in Central Asia with over 124 ethnicities, maintaining tolerance is enshrined in the country’s constitution. Ethnic minorities have representation in both the Majles and the Senate as well as through the Assembly of People of Kazakhstan, created by presidential decree in 1995 as an advisory body to promote interethnic harmony and support the development of national policy on ethnic relations. While closely linked to the president, the Assembly’s primary role is consultative, helping to mediate interethnic issues and ensure that diverse communities have representation.
The largest minority is Russian, making up around 14 percent of the population and roughly half of the residents in the North Kazakhstan Region (NKR), with majorities in some border cities and villages. Kazakhstan is home to the largest Russian diaspora in the world and Russian is an official language. For most Kazakhstanis, Russians have become a crucial part of the country’s social fabric. Kazakhs will refer to Kazakhstani Russians as “bizdin orystar” or our Russians, emphasizing their distinct identity from Russians in Russia through shared history and regional values such as hospitality and respect for elders. In some respects, the bonds between Kazakhs and Russians are closer than between Kazakhs and other Central Asian nationalities. As the poet Ramil Niyazov noted, if a Kazakh fights a Uyghur, any drunk scuffle can escalate into an interethnic conflict, but if a Kazakh fights a Russian, then the Kazakh’s Russian friends will fight on his side as will the Russian’s Kazakh friends.
At same time, Kazakhstan must balance relations with its ethnic Russians and the watchful eye of the Kremlin as it seeks to become more Kazakh through promoting the use of the Kazakh language, renaming Russian cities to Kazakh ones – often returning the historical toponymics, and promoting the country’s separate history.
For now, interethnic relations remain largely stable and officials are keen to maintain that balance. Besides the understanding that Kazakhstan will best succeed by embracing its cultural mosaic, authorities worry of a repeat of an Eastern Ukrainian scenario in the country’s north.
Russian Separatist Movements in the Post-Independence Years
As the titular republics declared their independence from the Soviet Union, Moscow began supporting breakaway republics such Abkhazia and South Ossetia in Georgia, the Republic of Artsakh in the Karabakh region of Azerbaijan and Transnistria in Moldova. By the end of the active parts of these conflicts, Russian troops were sent to “keep the peace” – with the exception of Karabakh, these peacekeepers never left. Such a scenario almost played out in the oil-rich Northwestern Kazakhstan.
In September 1991, tensions in Oral — also known as Uralsk — erupted when local Russian Cossacks sought to celebrate the 400th anniversary of serving the Russian crown, despite opposition from Kazakh nationalists with the support of regional authorities. Some of the Cossacks voiced territorial claims and links to Moscow, and according to Orynbai Zhakibaev, a leader of the Azat movement of Kazakh activists, had undergone secret military training and formed brigades should conflict break out. According to Najmeddin Eskaliev, then-leader of the Oral region, a column of Russian tanks under the command of General Albert Makashov waited on the Russian-Kazakh border to assist the Cossacks, should the confrontation turn violent. However, the conflict, later to be known as the “Uralsk Events” was quickly contained and then largely forgotten in the backdrop of the quick unraveling of history in the Soviet Union at the time.
The Uralsk Events were not unique. In 1994, 10,000 Russians gathered in Oskemen, also known as Ust-Kamenogorsk, in Kazakhstan’s northeast to demand Russian autonomy, dual citizenship rights and the elevation of Russian to state language. Oskemen, then a majority-Russian city, became a flash point, seeing a minor Cossack uprising in 1996-1997 followed by a coup attempt against the local government in 1999 led mainly by Russian citizens later referred to as “Pugachev’s Rebellion” in honor of Emilian Pugachev, a Cossack who led a revolt against Catherine the Great in the 18th century. The masterminds of Pugachev’s Rebellion sought to separate from Kazakhstan and establish a “Russian Altai” in the Eastern Kazakhstan province.
To counter the threat of Russian secessionism, then-President Nursultan Nazarbayev took steps to change the demographics of the north. In 1994, Nazarbayev moved Kazakhstan’s capital from the largest city and cultural center Almaty to a small city in the northern steppe of Akmola, later renamed to Astana. By moving the government, he was able to attract migrants from the country’s largely ethnic Kazakh south. Additionally, he settled kandas, or ethnic Kazakh repatriates from nearby countries such as China, Mongolia, and Uzbekistan, in the north, slowly changing the demographics. In general, the repatriation of kandas along with ethnic Russian emigration has helped increased the ethnic Kazakh population from 44 percent at independence to 66 percent in 2024.
Historical Ties and Contemporary Claims
The history of Russian involvement in the Kazakh steppe dates to the early 18th century. Following the collapse of the Kazakh Khanate into three juz or hordes. These juz, weak and rather young entities, sought protection from St. Petersburg, which was formally granted in 1738. After the Russian Empire tightened its control in the 19th century — through forts, settlements, and the abolition of the khanates — Kazakh resistance flared, most famously in uprisings such as Kenesary Qasymuly’s rebellion in the mid 19th century. Continued land seizures and conscription policies sparked further revolts, including the massive 1916 Central Asian uprising against Tsarist rule. From the mid-19th century especially, Tsarist authorities encouraged the migration of ethnic Russians to Kazakhstan through building forts and administrative centers that would then become the nuclei for Russian settlements and land policies such as the Stolypin Reforms. Following the Russian Revolution of 1917, the region was drawn into the civil war, and by the early 1920s Soviet power had been consolidated, leading to the creation of the Kazakh Soviet Socialist Republic (KSSR) in 1925.
While many are familiar with the Holodomor, or the mass starvation in Ukraine in the 1930’s as a result of collectivization, few realize that the same policies killed over one third of the Kazakh population – mainly nomads in what Kazakhs refer to as Aharshylyq. Over the following two decades, Soviet General Secretary Josef Stalin deported various ethnic groups that he deemed a threat from throughout the country to Kazakhstan. Then, in 1954, new General Secretary Nikita Khruschev began his “Virgin Lands” campaign, recruiting hundreds of thousands of Russian and Ukrainian farmers to plow and settle Siberia and Kazakhstan. These events dramatically altered the republic’s demographics. In 1897, the Kazakh population was around 82 percent and the Russian population was around 10 percent, but after the Virgin Lands campaign, the Russian population of Kazakhstan was above 40 percent while the Kazakh population dropped to only 30 percent.
In the 1960’s, Khruschev proposed to dissolve the KSSR into the Russian Soviet Socialist Republic and renaming the five Kazakh regions the Tseliny Krai or “Virgin Lands Territory.” Then KSSR Chairman Zhumabek Tashenov openly opposed the idea, which would later cost him his job, but stopped the handover of Kazakh lands.
Since the fall of the Soviet Union, various Russian politicians have made claim to Kazakhstan’s north. In 2020, Duma Deputy Vyacheslav Nikonov said that Kazakhstan’s north was historically uninhabited, and the south was given “as a gift” to the Kazakh people by the Soviet Union. As Turan Research Fellow Bruce Pannier noted at the time, “it would be easy to consider the statements by the Russian deputies simply as bluster and dismiss them as fringe sentiments. But this is far from the first time Russian officials have made comments that brought into question Kazakhstan’s claim to statehood and sovereignty.”
The idea of Russia “gifting” Kazakhstan its land has been a reoccurring theme. The late ultranationalist Russian politician Vladimir Zhirinovsky, originally from Almaty, proposed annexing Kazakhstan; esteemed Soviet dissident and author Aleksandr Solzhenitskyn wrote in a famous essay “How to Build Russia” that Russia could take the northern half of Kazakhstan; and political activist Eduard Limonov was jailed in Russia in 2001 on charges of plotting a coup in northern Kazakhstan (the charges were later dropped). Following the Russian annexation of Crimea, President Vladimir Putin ominously said that Nazarbayev “created a state on a territory that never had a state…Kazakhs never had any statehood, [Nazarbayev] created it.”
It was the 2014 annexation of Crimea and Russian-backed separatist movements in Donetsk in Luhansk that drove home the real potential of such a scenario playing out in Kazakhstan. In response, authorities began incentivizing migration from the largely ethnic Kazkh south to the north under the guise of balancing the job market. From 2017 to 2024, this program saw the settlement of 58 thousand people in the NKR.
Acts 174 and 180: The Legal Edge of Kazakhstan’s Interethnic Policy
Under the same Act 174 used to prosecute Ensebek, Kazakh authorities launched an investigation into the Director of the major Russian-language radio station Europe Plus Kazakhstan. Following Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine, she responded on Facebook to a supposed Kazakh nationalist by threatening to “call Uncle Vlad” for help and telling him to “shut his toxic, nationalist mouth.” Although she was fired from her post at the radio, she was not charged with any crimes. However, under Kazakhstani law, her statement could’ve been tried under the harsher Act 180.
Act 180 relates to propaganda, public calls and actions related to separatism or threats to the country’s territorial integrity. According to the NKR Police Chief Ruslan Zharasbaev, cases of prosecution under both acts 174 and 180 rose sharply in 2023. Many cases in the north stem from online tirades and social media posts. Some involve insulting ethnic Kazakhs or calling for Russian annexation, but the prosecutions are not one-sided. In June, a pregnant Kazakh teacher was prosecuted under Act 174 for posting a TikTok video declaring, “there is no place for [Russians] here. Those Kazakhs who can hear me now, teach Russians, because they are stupid and dumb.”
Other cases are more concerning. In April 2023, a video at a college in Petropavlovsk went viral showing around twenty members of the so-called “People’s Committee of the Workers” declaring “independence, self-sufficiency and sovereignty.” While such declarations alone are unlikely to be serious, they occurred amid statements by Russian politicians and political experts calling for the need to “defend the Russian-speaking population” and questioning Kazakhstan’s statehood, echoing rhetoric used in Ukraine. Last year, Russian TV and popular telegram channels criticized alleged Russophobia in Central Asian school systems, accusing Kazakhstan in particular of “training a new generation of Russophobes” for including Kazakh suffering under tsarism and soviet rule in the syllabus.
In a possible sign of Astana’s sensitivity to Russian criticism, Kazakhstani authorities opened an investigation under Act 174 in August against Aibek Abdrakhmanov, who runs a YouTube channel on Kazakh history challenging Soviet stereotypes and as he describes it the notion that Kazakhs “didn’t have writing, statehood, or civilization and were savages” before joining the Russian empire. Investigators cited not the content of the videos themselves, but the anti-Russian comments they allegedly inspired. Just a month earlier, Aslan Tolegenov, an ethnic Kazakh blogger who purportedly “exposed Russophobia” in Kazakhstan, was placed under administrative arrest for 10 days under the same law. Unlike typical prosecutions under Act 174, which target the content itself, these cases were pursued because of the discussions they generated. Together, they illustrate Astana’s approach: curbing public debate on topics that could threaten interethnic harmony.
While the government’s approach may seem extreme, Kazakhstani authorities have reason to fear such societal trends. Last month, leaked documents from Russian military intelligence (GRU) detailed influence operations in Kazakhstan. The documents outlined strategies to destabilize the country, starting in the north, including plans to bribe elites, weaponize Russophobia, and promote pro-Russian propaganda under the guise of a research center.
However, in recent times, the potential for a Crimea or East Ukraine scenario that at least appears grassroots is diminishing. Kazakhstan has largely reshaped the demographics of its northern regions: many Russians have left due to a lack of opportunities, poor infrastructure and a harsh climate. The Kazakh Agrotechnical University estimates the northern population will drop by 20-25%. Additionally, the remaining Russian population is aging, as the youth often move to Astana, Almaty or Russia in search of better work opportunities. While local support and even plausible deniability will not stop a Russian invasion, changing facts on the ground may mitigate the risk.
Managing Multiculturalism
Of the total Russian population, separatists represent a small minority. Russians are not only accepted by Kazakhs, but they have also forged a distinct Kazakhstani Russian identity since the fall of the Soviet Union. It is common to see videos of ethnic Kazakhs jumping in the water with Russians during the Christian Orthodox Epiphany or ethnic Russians greeting their Kazakh neighbors with salam aleikum. Populations are mixed not only in major cities like Astana and Almaty but also in smaller towns such as Zharkent, Balkhash, and Taldykorgan. Self-segregation is rare, and intermarriage is not uncommon.
Kazakhstani Russians have pushed back against Russian politicians who claim that ethnic Russians or the Russian language is under attack. In 2022, when Duma Deputy Genadii Zyuganov made such a claim, Kazakhstani Russians responded en masse with the hashtag blending Russian and Kazakh, “Kazakhstan Moy Zheruik” or “Kazakhstan is my Land.”
Yet in northern Kazakhstan, social cohesion is more fragile. Many residents watch Russian state media and are dissatisfied with initiatives to promote the Kazakh language, the renaming of cities, limited local opportunities, and government policies aimed at altering the region’s demographics. Occasional incidents of Russophobia, such as a sign in Oral reading “Russians have no place in Oral” further alienate local Russians.
Should Russia attempt to seize part of northern Kazakhstan, it would face few immediate military obstacles. The border is vast, mostly undefended, and sparsely populated. However, Kazakhstani political expert Gaziz Abishev warns that annexation could cost Russia diplomatic relations with Kazakhstan and provoke the establishment of foreign bases — “whether they be American or Chinese” — along the new border. Already spread out and isolated over the war in Ukraine, these political consequences may outweigh any short-term gains. An invasion could also prompt other Central Asian nations and Azerbaijan to reassess their ties with Moscow in response to the emerging Russian threat. While China and the United States are unlikely to provide security guarantees, Kazakhstan may seek increased relations with countries of the Organization of Turkic States (OTS) to deter Russian annexation.
Kazakhstani analyst Dosym Satpayev cautions that Kazakhstan’s fate is linked to Ukraine. "If Ukraine can be easily sacrificed to appease Putin, what does that mean for Kazakhstan? Should serious problems arise here [in Kazakhstan], no one will pay attention.” He notes that Kazakhstan’s security depends on a fragile geopolitical balance that could “collapse at any moment.”
Kazakhstan’s leadership thus walks a narrow path between affirming a distinct national identity and preserving the multiethnic fabric that has helped keep the country stable since independence. The demographic shifts in the north, the strict enforcement of laws against hate speech and separatism, and the careful public messaging around history and language are all parts of this balancing act. Yet these measures can only mitigate, not eliminate, the risks posed by an assertive Russia and domestic grievances. Whether Kazakhstan continues to be seen by its citizens — Kazakh, Russian and others alike — as a shared homeland will depend not only on government policy but also on the everyday choices of communities to resist polarization. In that sense, the contest over “our Russians” or “Moscow’s Russians” is less about passports than about belonging, and how Kazakhstan manages that question may define its sovereignty for decades to come.
Joseph Epstein is the Director of the Turan Research Center and Senior Fellow at the Yorktown Institute.